


As It's Meant To Be

by inigo1220



Series: The Ants Go Marching [5]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Dom/sub Undertones, Establishing boundaries, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, chapter 2 established relationship, mention of rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inigo1220/pseuds/inigo1220
Summary: As their relationship develops, Fingon and Maedhros' sex develops with them. Their first-time is shaky, but years later, they come to learn each others' desires and boundaries.
Relationships: Fingon | Findekáno/Maedhros | Maitimo
Series: The Ants Go Marching [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1586407
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	1. The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> REGARDING THE TAGS: Fingon does not like having a certain part of his body touched, and he experiences something akin to a panic attack due to Maedhros violating that boundary. This is how the mention of rape comes up; they do figure it out between them (and Fingon assures Maedhros that that was not the case).

The bed creaks slightly when Fingon adjusts to sit in his lap, straddling him. Maedhros moves his hand further down from Fingon’s back to the fabric of his skirt, holding him tighter with his other hand. There’s no sound in the room, in the house other than their fierce kisses. Maedhros leans back, letting Fingon fall atop him, Maedhros’ back now on the bed. Fingon’s lips move a centimeter away; he inhales, and half a second later, Fingon’s lips are back on his.

It’s summer. Fingon turned eighteen three weeks ago. They’re going to be going to same university in a couple months. They’ve been going steady for a year. They’re all alone in the house: Aredhel is out with Celegorm; Turgon is at a friend’s house; and both of Fingon’s parents are at work. They’re on Fingon’s bed: Fingon is on top of him; Maedhros is feeling himself harden; and Fingon’s lips and tongue brush and suck at his throat with gusto. Maedhros’ heart races. This is it.

“Fin,” he moans, and he thrusts his hips up and against Fingon’s thigh, his hardness meeting Fingon’s at the apex. It’s only for a millisecond that they press together, but Maedhros gasps anyway, the knowledge that Fingon wants it, too, makes Maedhros burn.

But the sudden tension in Fingon’s body douses him in cold water.

What if he did the wrong thing?

He hasn’t told Fingon that he’s a virgin, hasn’t confessed that beyond a few porn watching incidents and the middle of the night trips to the bathroom to jack off in the one room in his house where there is some privacy, he actually doesn’t know much about sex beyond theory. He knows some gay men like being fucked in the ass; he knows that requires lubricant; he knows they should wear a condom for that – he also knows that he’s not sure that he wants to go that far today.

“Fin?” he asks gently, laying a hand on his sweetheart’s shoulder. Maedhros hopes he hasn’t ruined it already. He’s spent more time than he’d feel comfortable admitting fantasizing about this, about taking Fingon in his mouth or his hand and hearing Fingon gasp and having Fingon’s seed in him – having something of Fingon inside of him, something that symbolizes that he belongs to Fingon, even if he’s not ready to take Fingon’s cock.

Fingon lifts his head enough to be able to look at Maedhros. Maedhros doesn’t recognize the expression on his face. “I want you,” Fingon says quietly. His brown eyes flicker to Maedhros’ shirt collar, then back to Maedhros’ green eyes. The A/C comes on, filling the room with a buzz. Maedhros’ throat feels constricted. He doesn’t know what to say. Fingon shifts forward, and Maedhros writhes a little as Fingon’s warm weight encases him, Fingon’s brushing his ear. “Can I tell you what I want to do to you?” Fingon whispers. Maedhros shudders, feeling Fingon’s lips at his ear. Fingon’s cheek brushes his ear now; Maedhros feels his smile.

He still can’t bring himself to speak.

Fingon doesn’t wait for him to: “I want to take off your pants, stroke you until you’re so hard you can hardly take it, and then I want you in my mouth, and I'm going to suck you until you cum.” Maedhros’ breath catches. He can hear his blood racing through him. The part of his brain that’s still able to think decides that this must not be Fingon’s first time. Maedhros promptly shuts it up, and the mattress sinks a little as Fingon sits back up. To Maedhros’ surprise, his sweetheart is blushing. “Does that sound good to you?” His voice is small, but sweet Eru: the Fingon of his fantasies wasn’t this good.

“Yes.” Maedhros doesn’t recognize his voice. Fingon nods and gives him a nervous smile, bringing himself to his knees, then scooting back until he’s straddling Maedhros’ knees. He breaks eye contact, but Maedhros watches as his hands unbutton the jeans.

The A/C shuts off, and the only sounds in the room are their breathing. Maedhros lifts his hips, letting Fingon shimmy them down just enough to have all of Maedhros’ boxer briefs show. Maedhros can see the tent in the fabric. He looks away, fingers twirling a lock of hair, and his nerves start to fire: what if he comes too soon? What if Fingon learns that this is his first time? What if there’s something weird about his dick? Maedhros shuts his eyes, and the mattress shifts again. Fingon’s warmth encases him. Far away, Maedhros hears the faint noise of an ambulance; he focuses on the noise, letting it ground him.

Lips touch his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head back until his nose bumps Fingon’s. Fingon brushes his lips against Maedhros’. “Russa… I’ve never done this before, and,” Fingon chuckles nervously. “I might suck at it.” Fingon snorts. “No pun intended.”

Maedhros laughs, his nerves getting the best of him. He brings his hand up to Fingon’s cheek in a reassuring caress. “There’s nothing you could do to me I wouldn’t enjoy, Fin. And…” He pauses. Fin deserves his honesty and vulnerability. “I haven’t actually done this either.”

Fingon rests his head on Maedhros’ shoulder, his arms hugging him tightly. For a moment, they just lay there, and Maedhros strokes Fingon’s curls. A bird chirps outside the window, all feels calm, and Fingon gets up to return to his earlier spot at Maedhros’ knees.

This time, Maedhros watches. 

Fingon pulls off Maedhros' pants, tossing them to the floor. Through the cloth, Fingon rubs Maedhros with his hand first, up and down, and Maedhros bucks his hips, whining, trying to hold back and sound less wanton. “You sound so beautiful,” Fingon says, his voice thick. He yanks down Maedhros’ boxer briefs, and Maedhros’ erection springs up. Fingon stares at it for a moment, blinking. Maedhros’ earlier worries flutter back into his thoughts, but before he can say anything, Fingon wraps his hand around it, and Maedhros groans, all thoughts lost.

Fingon isn’t even doing stroking him as hard as Maedhros would like, but the sight of his sweetheart’s hand around his dick, and the warmth, and the way that Fingon is watching him come undone is still overwhelming. His breathing is hard and fast, interspersed with whimpers. Then Fingon scoots a little more back, and Maedhros watches as his Fingon bends all the way down, until his mouth is so close to Maedhros’ cock that Maedhros feels him exhale. Maedhros shudders, and Fingon takes the tip of Maedhros’ cock into his mouth.

Without meaning to, he thrusts hard into Fingon’s mouth, spurting, and he feels Fingon wrap his lips around it tighter before pulling off. Maedhros feels his dick fall back against his thigh, still wet with Fingon’s saliva. Maedhros stares dumbly as he sees Fingon’s Adam’s apple bob with his swallow before Fingon coughs a little. The pleasure of his orgasm has rendered him temporarily incoherent, but if he could, he would kiss Fingon breathless.

“You seem like you enjoyed that,” Fingon teases. His sweetheart bounds off the bed and grabs a nearby water bottle and takes a swig. As he watches, Maedhros feels so warm, a dozy half-smile unfurls on his face. Fingon grins and offers him the water bottle. Once sitting up, Maedhros pulls off his boxers from his calves and downs half the bottle before setting it on the nightstand.

They lie back down, side by side, facing each other, soft smiles on both their face.

The A/C comes back on, filling the room with its buzz. Fingon tucks a strand of Maedhros’ locks behind his ear, and that’s when Maedhros remembers that Fingon hasn’t come yet. He scrambles back onto his knees, prompting a concerned look from Fingon, but he hardly notices, so busy he is mentally reprimanding himself for being so thoughtless and incompetent. Yet once on his knees, looking at Fingon’s still perplexed expression, he realizes he absolutely could not manage Fingon’s dirty talk, so he settles for: “Turn over. Lie on your back.” He tries sound authoritative, but it sounds wrong, even to him. Fingon frowns slightly, but he does as Maedhros demands, lying still as plank against the mattress.

Maedhros tells himself he deserves Fin’s mistrust; he did, after all, accept pleasure from his sweetheart and offer none in return. Motivated by his desire to right his failure, Maedhros quickly moves between Fingon’s legs, parting them slightly to fit his thin frame between them. He pushes up Fingon’s skirt, chalking up the tension in Fingon’s thighs to nerves. He frowns. Fingon doesn’t seem to be even half hard. He leans forward to press a kiss on Fingon’s hardness; he can smell Fingon’s musk through the cotton of his boxer briefs, and his own cock twitches. “Maedhros,” Fingon’s voice is shaking.

In hindsight, Maedhros should have noted that Fingon called him Maedhros instead of Russa.

He brings his hand to caress Fingon’s dick, and Fingon promptly kicks him.

The kick lands on his shoulder and topples Maedhros off the bed to fall onto the floor on his naked rear. “Ow!” he protests, grabbing at his shoulder. “Eru, Fingon, was that really necessary? I didn’t even get to start!” He regrets his words instantly when he stands up, scowling, and sees him.

Fingon’s arms wrap around his legs up, keeping them against his chest. His eyes are closed tightly, and Maedhros can here his shaky breaths. A knee-jerk reaction, Maedhros exclaims his sweetheart’s name and gets back on the bed, but Fingon’s eyes fly open, and he scoots back until his back meets the wall. Maedhros freezes. Fingon shakes his head until Maedhros moves slowly off the bed, stands, and takes a few steps back.

Now, Maedhros really looks at him. Fingon’s lower lip is trembling; his bright brown eyes are downcast with fear, teary. Fingon clutches the blanket and pulls it over his legs.

The A/C shuts off, leaving the room silent, still.

Maedhros’ heart wrenches with guilt, even as his mind churns in confusion. He made Fingon upset. He made Fingon, the bravest person he knows, afraid. He hurt him. But, what did he do? The silence stretches, and Maedhros feels himself twitching. He wants to ask if he can get Fingon anything, do anything, but none of those questions seem appropriate.

“Do you want me to leave?” he finally asks. Tears begin racing down Fingon’s cheeks, as he shakes his head. Maedhros feels like he’s been stabbed. He has never been the cause of Fingon’s tears before. The floor creaks as Maedhros’ shifts his weight.

“Can you put your pants back on?” Fingon mumbles, his voice frail.

“Of course,” Maedhros replies quickly, grateful to have Fingon speaking again. He pulls his jeans back on, not caring that he is still missing his underwear. Almost as if in compromise, Fingon slowly pushes the blanket away from him and lets his legs stretch out, smoothing his skirt around them—but then his arms dart out to grab a pillow and hug it tightly instead. Fingon gives him a small smile and wipes the tears off his cheeks.

“Can I sit on the bed now?” Maedhros ventures. “I won’t sit close to you, unless you want me to.” Fingon nods once. Maedhros sits on the edge of the bed, too far from Fingon to reach unless he really leans forward.

“I’m so sorry, Russa,” Fingon whispers.

Maedhros shakes his head. Every bone in his body wants to embrace Fingon, kiss his hair, hold him tightly and apologize until he’s lost his breath. “What? Sweetheart, no, it was my fault. I don’t – I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted me.”

Fingon looks at him in wide-eyed panic. “No!” Tears come back, and Maedhros wants to kick himself for doing the wrong thing – again. “I do want you,” Fingon sobs. “I know, I knew you just wanted, you wanted to be good to me, you always do, you’re so good to me.” Fingon’s voice breaks, and Maedhros feels tears coming to his own eyes. He wants to hold him. Wants to soothe him. Wants to stroke his hair and tell him that it’s all alright. “I just, I didn’t know… I didn’t know I didn’t—I don’t want you to touch me like that. Not there.”

“Oh,” is all Maedhros can manage.

The A/C comes back on.

Fingon takes fives deep breaths, steadying himself. Maedhros’ flicker from the floor to Fingon and back again. By the time Maedhros thinks he might understand what is happening—that he was doing too much, too fast, Fingon is younger than he is— the bright determination Maedhros fell in love with is back in Fingon’s eyes. “Maedhros,” he says slowly, clearly trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m not one hundred percent certain, but I’m pretty certain that I will never want you to touch me there. If that’s… If that’s a deal breaker, or if you think it might be one, then…” Fingon swallows. “Then just let me know now.”

Maedhros stares at him. Never? Not just this time because it’s too soon, but never? Millions of questions hurtle through his mind, both for himself and his sweetheart. How can Fingon not want to be touched like that? How could Maedhros have been so selfish as to not notice Fingon’s discomfort? Did Fingon forgive him? Does this mean Fingon will never want to have sex with him? Did Fingon not want to do what he did earlier?

The last question arrests his thoughts.

Did Fingon only touch him because he knew Maedhros wanted it?

He would have never, ever – did he force himself—intentionally or not, it doesn’t matter— on Fingon? He feels himself retch, and Fingon’s eyes widen with hurt, but there’s nothing to throw up and Maedhros forces himself to swallow his spit back down. “Fingon,” he gasps, his hand pulls at his hair, and he falls to his knees. “Fingon, I’m so sorry. I didn’t, I wouldn’t—” Eyes screwed shut; his hands clasped together in penance. “I didn’t mean to hurt you!” he cries. He feels the need to vomit again at the thought, but he forces it down. He shouldn’t feel sick. He doesn’t deserve to feel sick. _He_ is sickening.

“Maedhros,” Fingon starts.

“If you never want to see me again,” the desire to retch returns. “If you, I don’t know, whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it, Fin. I’ll do anything. I’m so sorry.”

“Maedhros!” Fingon repeats, stronger this time.

Maedhros’ mouth clamps shut, and his eyes fly open to look at Fingon, who he now realizes looks utterly bewildered. Maedhros frowns. Why is Fingon confused?

“What are you talking about?” Fingon asks. “You didn’t, I mean, you did, but I didn’t tell you because I didn’t know – you’re not mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at – you should be mad at me!”

“I’m not mad,” Fingon reassures. “I, I was just shocked, and it scared me, but I feel a little better now. I mean, I’m a little scared right now, because I can’t tell if you’re about to break up with me or not, but—”

“What?” Maedhros stands up, feeling himself wobble with the rush of emotion. Who said anything about breaking up?

“I—okay, why exactly should I be mad at you?” Fingon asks, frustrated.

Maedhros looks away, ashamed. “Because I forced myself on you,” he replies softly. “You didn’t want to do those things, and you did them anyway, because you knew I wanted it.”

Fingon frowns. “I… I mean, I don’t know that it’s fair to say that you forced yourself on me. I didn’t tell you not to touch me, and I lay down when you asked me to…”

“No, not then! Earlier. When you… when you put me in your mouth,” Maedhros is whispering by the end of his statement.

“Russa,” Fingon frowns, scooting to where Maedhros stands and taking hold of his hand. “Darling, no, I wanted to do that.” Maedhros lifts his gaze to look doubtfully at Fingon, who smiles sheepishly. “I liked doing that. It felt good for me, too. All of it. The telling you what I was going to do, the touching, having in you in my mouth… the swallowing. I felt really good.”

The A/C ceases its buzzing. Maedhros searches for a lie in Fingon’s eyes but cannot find one. “So, I didn’t… I didn’t rape you?” Maedhros asks softly.

Fingon’s eyes widen, and he gasps in shock, as he hugs Maedhros tightly. “What! No! Russa! I’ve been wanting to do that to you since my birthday, I just,” and he promptly let go of Maedhros, “I just don’t want you to do those things… to me.”

“Okay,” Maedhros takes a deep breath, taking time now to read Fingon’s body language. Fingon has his head bowed down, though he’s looking at Maedhros. He’s clutching the pillow again but only in his hand and not tightly to his chest. He’s better, but he’s still anxious. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“I love you, and I'll always want you… but I need to understand… do you not want to have sex at all, or is there some other way I can… I can make you feel good… sexually?” Fingon’s mouth and eyes tighten. He glances at the bed.

“What parts of you can I touch? Can I still kiss you?”

Fingon’s mouth and eyes lose their tightness. He gives a sharp exhale. “Yes, please do.” Maedhros sits back on the bed, and, slowly, his eyes never failing to scan Fingon for any sign of discomfort, he leans in and kisses him softly. Fingon wraps his arms around Maedhros’ neck, and Maedhros smiles into another kiss, as he feels Fingon’s body relax around him.

The smile widens at his next question that occurs to him. “Can I kiss here?” he touches the tip of Fingon’s ear. Fingon chuckles.

“Yes.”

Maedhros places a kiss on the tips of both ears, and Fingon shudders a little. Maedhros smiles. “Can I kiss here?” he whispers into his ears, touching Fingon’s forehead.

“Yes.” His lips move accordingly.

“Here?” He caresses Fingon’s cheek.

“Always.” His lips touch the soft skin, and he dares lick a little with his tongue. He pulls away. Fingon is smiling, still holding him at the neck. He wants to try again; he wants to make Fingon feel good; he wants to make up for this otherwise horrible afternoon. But he doesn’t want Fingon to lose that smile. He never wants to be the reason Fingon cries ever again.

“Would you like it if we took off your shirt?” Maedhros asks quietly. He’s hyperfocused now on looking at every twitch of Fingon’s body for any sign of stress. Sure enough, Fingon tenses. His eyes look afraid again. Maedhros gives him a reassuring smile. “It’s okay, sweetheart. That’s why I’m asking. I don’t want anything that you don’t want.”

Fingon shakes his head. “No, I do want to, but… I’m afraid I’ll freak out again, and then I’ll scare you again.”

Maedhros considers this. “New rule then,” he grins. “After your shirt comes off, I don’t move unless you tell me to.” Fingon raises an eyebrow. Maedhros shrugs. “Anything you tell me to do, I’ll do. It just means you’ll have to be very specific,” he shoots Fingon a wicked grin. Fingon still looks doubtful. “Fin, you know you love telling me what to do—and you know I love doing what you tell me to.” Fingon laughs.

Maedhros’ voice turns serious again: “Even if what you say is stop, okay? I’ll do whatever you tell me to.” 

“Okay,” Fingon agrees, his smile still a little nervous. After pulling his shirt over his head, Fingon lies back into the pillows. Maedhros smiles at him, letting his eyes rake across Fingon’s chest, repressing the shudder he feels at the knowledge that he’ll be allowed to touch Fingon’s skin soon. But only if Fin says so. Trying to comfort Fingon once more, he teases, “What does my beloved command?”

It works. Fingon chuckles. “Um,” he pursing his lips into an abashed smile. “Kiss here.” He trails a finger down his throat to his collarbone. Maedhros happily obliges, resisting the urge to lick as he goes. When he reaches the collarbone: “Suck there, leave a mark,” Fingon orders. Maedhros has never done this before, and he can’t tell if his arousal is coming from the act, or from the stern certainty of Fingon’s voice. He sucks and when he lifts his head, he sees the hicky he’s left on Fingon’s skin. Fingon runs a hand through his hair. “Good work, darling.”

It’s definitely Fingon’s voice that’s getting him hard. Fingon takes his hand and places it over his chest so that Maedhros’ fingers are on top of his hardening nipples. “Rub them, just in circles.” Maedhros rubs with his index and middle finger, slow and soft, with both hands, his hardness increasing with Fingon’s gaps, the way he’s writhing, his eyes half-lidded. A whimper escapes him and then: “Stop.” Maedhros halts immediately, but he does not remove his hand. “Take your hand off.” Maedhros does so, wondering if this means this game is over. He’ll stop, of course, but he hopes not. He’s enjoying it so much. Fingon takes his hand again and puts the tip of his finger into his mouth, licks it, bites down a little, and tugs. Maedhros stares, then looks at Fingon when he lets go. Fingon’s eyes blaze. “Do that to them. Bite a little and tug. It won’t hurt me.” Maedhros’ breathe hitches, and he forces himself to take a deep breath. His pants are starting to constrict him. He leans down and takes a nipple into his mouth, licking in circles. Fingon groans and gives a little cry of pleasure when Maedhros bites the nub gently and pulling it slightly to and fro, and then moves his mouth to give the other one the same treatment. Fingon’s cry increases in pitch when Maedhros’ moans against the sensitive skin.

“Stop.” This order is more breathless. Maedhros sits back up. “Um, move to the side, please.” Maedhros moves, eyes still on Fingon’s now wet, very aroused nipples. He wonders if he’s allowed to ask Fingon if he can touch himself, but he shuts down the thought. This is about Fingon, not about me, he tells himself sternly. “I—” the hesitation in Fingon’s voice makes Maedhros snap out of it and look to his lover with concern. “I’m going to take off my skirt and my underwear. I still don’t want you to touch me there.” Maedhros nods.

“I won’t,” he promises.

Fingon pulls off his skirt and his underwear, and Maedhros can’t help but look at the very erect penis between Fingon’s legs. “Russa?” Maedhros looks back at Fingon, who is very obviously doing his best not to look at the very erect penis.

“Sorry,” Maedhros mutters.

Fingon shakes his head. “I don’t mind if you look,” he says. “I just don’t like to.” The small smile he’d worn seconds before fades. “I don’t know if I like that you like it though…” he admits. “It makes me wish I could be okay with it getting touched, so that you could get that pleasure, too.”

Maedhros blinks. “Fin, can I take off my pants again?”

“Um, yes,” Fingon says, sounding confused, but Maedhros knows he’ll understand in a moment. Maedhros slides off his pants once more to reveal his own erection. “Oh,” Fingon breathes.

“Fin, just hearing you,” Maedhros breathes in and out. “Just hearing you makes me like this.” Fingon nods, and then a large smile blooms on his face.

“Kiss me, again,” Fingon demands. Maedhros gets back to his side, careful not to touch Fingon’s erection, and kisses him. Fingon’s mouth is hard against him, his tongue enters him, and Maedhros moans with delight. A stroke to his cock, makes him moan louder, but after a few, Maedhros backs away, afraid it will be over too soon. “Sorry,” Fingon says immediately.

“It’s okay,” Maedhros replies. “I just, I already came, and you’re still hard.”

Fingon grins wickedly. “Well, you could fix that.”

Maedhros smiles, “I will.” But a thought occurs to him. “Fin,” he starts, then stops. Fingon cocks his head at him. “Are you—when you come, is it—would it bother you… could I have it?”

Fingon looks nothing short of perplexed. Finally, he says, “Russa, I won’t be offended if you don’t… eat it? No shade, but it doesn’t taste particularly good.”

Self-conscious, Maedhros looks away from Fingon, worried to see his reaction. “It’s not about that,” he explains, “I just… it’s about having a little piece of you inside of me.” He ventures a glance at Fingon who seems intrigued by the notion. “I know it’s weird, but that’s just how I think about it. We, I mean, I’m not, I imagine you will also not be interested in ever being inside of me?” Fingon quickly shakes his head. “That’s fine, I’m okay with that. If you’re willing, I’d like to have… your cum instead, so it’s like a have a little piece of you inside of me.” 

Fingon is quiet, but Maedhros does not sense any disdain or disgust from him. He seems to be pondering Maedhros’ request. “I don’t know if I can stroke myself to completion,” Fingon admits. “I’ve never been able to. But I can try, so that it ends up in my hands.”

Maedhros quickly shakes his head. “That’s not necessary, sweetheart. I just, once it’s over, can I have it, wherever it ends up?”

“Oh.” Beads of pre-cum begin leaking from Fingon’s tip. “Yes,” Fingon answers. A pause. “If you keep doing what you were doing, I’ll come. That’s how I’ve always done it in the past. Maybe you should keep yourself over me so that when it happens, it’ll land on you?” Maedhros nods and positions himself so that his lower chest over Fingon’s cock. It’s an awkward position, but at least Maedhros, taller than Fingon, makes it possible. He leans forward and licks and bites at Fingon’s nipples again, as he rubs the other nub with his hand. Fingon’s hands tangle into his hair. “Oh, fuck, Russa... you’re incredible; you’re so good to me, ah!” With a grunt, Fingon’s hips buck into the air and his cock squirts on Maedhros’ chest. Fingon breathes heavily, petting Maedhros’ hair, and Maedhros thinks if his sated beautiful asked him to, he could come on the spot.

“You didn’t come,” Fingon finally manages.

Maedhros shrugs, then an idea pops into his head. “The rule is I only do what you tell me to, right?”

Eyebrows raised, Fingon asks, “You really enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Maedhros blushes. More than he could ever expect Fin to understand.

Fingon laughs. “Okay. I want you to slide up,” he grabs Maedhros’ hips and guides them forward. “Rub yourself against my chest.” Maedhros moans at the dirtiness, but he obliges Fingon dragging his cock against Fingon’s chest until he accidentally rubs a nipple and Fingon hisses in pain. “Ow! Not there! It’s too much, too soon.”

“Sorry.”

“Keep going. You better not come until I tell you to.” Maedhros whines, but his arousal surges at Fingon's stern tone. He ruts himself against Fingon’s chest, careful now to avoid his lover’s most sensitive areas but dragging his pre-cum across Fingon’s skin. The friction is almost painful, but so, so good. 

“Please, please, Fingon, I’m so close,” he whines.

Fingon looks at him, and Maedhros can’t quite make out the expression on his face. Fingon nods. “Okay. You can come now.”

Maedhros releases. He lets himself fall onto the bed beside Fingon, on his back, tired yet filled with joy, but Fingon’s not done. A finger trails his chest then lingers at his mouth. “Open up,” Fingon says cheerfully. Maedhros opens his eyes. Fingon’s finger is covered in white. Maedhros smiles and takes the finger in his mouth, licking it clean. Fingon watches intently, his eyes only ever leaving Maedhros’ face to gather more. They repeat the movement until both their chests are clean.

Maedhros turns over so that his face is buried in the crook of Fingon’s neck.

“There’s a little piece of you inside of me,” he murmurs, giddy. He can feel Fingon’s smile.

“As it’s meant to be.”


	2. Count to Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s not that Maedhros doesn’t know anything about sex; it’s that he loves it when Fingon tells him what to do."
> 
> Years later, Fingon and Maedhros know each other so much better -- and the sex has gotten better, too. Established relationship; they're probably in their late twenties/thirties at this point.

It’s not that Maedhros doesn’t know anything about sex; it’s that he loves it when Fingon tells him what to do. 

“Lube your fingers.”

It’s a bonus that Maedhros knows how much Fingon needs him. Fingon doesn’t like his cock being touched, and he struggles with overstimulation, so it’s hard for him to give himself pleasure. He needs Maedhros, and that thought alone, that he can be the one to give Fingon something Fingon can’t give himself, thrills Maedhros.

Maedhros coats his fingers in the lubricant carefully and rubs the skin of his thumb against the nail to make sure his nails don’t have any jagged edges. He looks over to Fingon, who waits patiently on his hands and knees, legs spread slightly, cock hard after their foreplay. Fingon looks over to him and smiles softly.

Maedhros’ heart feels like bursting. He gets back onto the bed and kneels in front of Fingon, careful not to touch the bedspread with his lubed fingers. “Is this good?” he asks, showing Fingon his fingers. Fingon kisses his palm.

“Yes, darling, you did a wonderful job,” Fingon assures him. Maedhros breathes deeply. Half the time, he can’t believe that this is real, that he has found someone who knows him so well, knows exactly what he wants, what he needs, who obliges him with praise at every turn. “Your fingers are so long,” Fingon murmurs, looking at him now. Maedhros’ breath catches, and Fingon’s lip lifts at the corner. “So long and thin. They’re perfect for preparing me.” Maedhros bites his lip. “Don’t come yet. Not yet. When I tell you.” Fingon’s tone is slightly teasing. It’s happened before, Maedhros coming before he should. Fingon is always kind to him when it happens, but Maedhros can’t help but feel frustrated with himself. True, he can get Fingon to come without using his cock, but he knows Fingon likes it much better with, and Maedhros always feels a sense of pride when he manages hold himself back until Fingon gives him permission.

“Can I?” he asks Fingon, hoping that focusing on his task will help him forget the throbbing between his legs. Fingon nods, closes his eyes and spreads his legs a little wider. Maedhros sits behind Fingon, spreads his lover’s cheeks. He waits.

“Put one finger in. Go slowly,” Fingon states. Maedhros gently pushes his skinny index finger, the smallest of the three he lubricated, into Fingon’s hole. Fingon lets out a little gasp that makes Maedhros want to rub his cock against Fingon’s thigh, but he resists the urge and pushes the finger in deeper.

“Yes...You’re amazing, Russa. Add… the second one in,” Fingon moans, as Maedhros curls the first finger inside of him. Maedhros obliges, pushing the second finger in, pausing for a moment to allow Fingon’s body to adjust. “Scissor,” Fingon instructs. Inside Fingon, Maedhros’ fingers stretch apart.

There’s no question of what to do next, no uncertainty, no need to scan the room. Fingon tells him exactly what to do – and he trusts Maedhros to do it.

“Push them deeper, Russa.” He begins to thrust both fingers, trying hard not to touch the spot, not yet. Fingon moans again. “Find it. _Ah_ ,” his voice turns in a sharp whine when Maedhros hits that spot. Maedhros’ cock is fully hard. “You are so incredible, finding it so fast,” Fingon praises, pride evident in his voice. “Keep going. Give me the last finger, darling.” Maedhros nods, though Fingon can’t see him, and adds his third finger in, the squishing noise, the way his finger gets almost sucked in, only increasing his hardness. He pushes the fingers in and out, and there’s only a little resistance now, and Maedhros feels overwhelmed. Fingon bucks his hips backwards to push Maedhros’ fingers deeper, gasping when they hit his prostate.

“Stop.” The order is breathless but stern. Maedhros stops moving instantly, awaiting further instruction. “Take your fingers out.” Maedhros slips them out. 

“Fingon, please, are you—can I?” All of the blood in his body feels like it’s fled to his dick, and only the knowledge that he must do exactly as Fingon instructs and can act only when Fingon instructs is the only thing holding him back from fucking his lover senseless.

“What do you want to do to me, Russa?” Maedhros can’t see his lover’s face, but he hears the tease in Fingon’s tone.

“Can I enter you?” Maedhros asks again, knowing it won’t be enough.

“What do you mean?” Fingon’s voice is light, innocent.

“Can I put my cock inside you?”

“Then what will you do?”

“Thrust,” Maedhros is losing control of his voice. “In and out, and I’ll make sure I touch you there so that you feel good, please, Fingon. Please let me make you come.”

“What about you?” Fingon’s tone is more serious this time.

“I’ll come when you tell me I can.”

Fingon twists his body to turn around and look at Maedhros. He nods once. “Good. Stroke yourself before you enter me.”

“Thank you.” He strokes his neglected cock with the lubed fingers a few times before pressing it against Fingon’s entrance. The second his skin touches Fingon’s, his body feels on fire, every hair raised in anticipation of the slicked heat that awaits him.

“Go slowly,” Fingon murmurs. Maedhros pushes in, a soft gasp escaping him as the pressure around his cock stimulates him. He grabs Fingon’s hips to steady his smaller lover and pushes all the way in until his hips touch Fingon’s skin. He waits. Sometimes Fingon wants him to set a brutal pace, and Fingon doesn’t care if it’s over in less than a minute. Other times, Fingon likes to start like this but then stops him so that they can change positions. On occasion, Fingon likes him to just wait like that, and Fingon will tighten and loosen around Maedhros, driving him crazy until he gets permission to come.

“Such a good boy for me,” Fingon whispers, tightening his channel as he speaks. Maedhros lets out a low whimper, the praise making him want to thrust and spill. “So obedient. Move yourself halfway out, then thrust again, and hit my spot.” Maedhros nods even though Fingon can’t see him and follows the instructions exactly. Fingon groans at the hit to his prostrate. “Again,” Fingon demands, and Maedhros obliges once more. “I’m wet for you,” Fingon informs him. “Are you leaking for me?”

“Yes,” Maedhros whispers. Every part of him is straining not to come. Fingon has to come first. Fingon’s legs tremble. Maedhros feels a twinge of guilt. He knows Fingon desperately wants the stimulation, but Fingon knows just how much Maedhros likes having his orgasm delayed. Maedhros leans forward, his cock still buried in Fingon, and nuzzles his lover’s shoulder with his cheek. He hears Fingon exhale and the smile in his voice is clear when he says, “Grab my hips; hold me. You can go as fast as you want, darling.” Maedhros does as he is told and begins thrusting, not as fast as he could, but definitely hard, deep, making sure to thrust at the place that will bring Fingon the most pleasure. Maedhros pants, his breathing as fast as the slaps of skin against skin, and Fingon’s alternating grunts and gasps fill the room.

“Russa, Russa,” Fingon pants. “I’m almost—” Fingon groans, his hole twitches, and Maedhros knows he came, so he stops moving. It’s painful to ignore his own erection, but Fingon has not given him permission to come, and Maedhros knows moving now would hurt Fingon. Fingon is silent for a few moments, getting his breathing under control, then he slumps forward a little. “You can pull out now, Russa.”

Maedhros pulls his cock out, and Fingon grimaces slightly at the overstimulation. “Lie back, darling.” Maedhros tries not to smile too eagerly. His cock is throbbing, but Fingon’s hangs limply, and the sight is enough to make Maedhros pleased. If Fingon asked him to, Maedhros is so well trained, he could probably come at the sight.

Maedhros lies back against the pile of pillows and blankets they’d made earlier. Fingon reaches for the puddle of cum he left on the bed sheet and swipes it with his finger before joining Maedhros. Maedhros turns to look at him, eyes shining. Fingon smiles. “Open,” he says simply, and from experience Maedhros knows what he wants, so he opens his mouth wide enough for Fingon to offer him the cum-covered finger. Maedhros takes it into his mouth. He is not allowed to touch Fingon’s dick, but he loves tasting Fingon’s cum, so Fingon always obliges him by feeding him some afterwards. Fingon swipes another bit of it from off the bed sheets, and Maedhros’ hips, unbidden, buck into the air.

“Almost,” Fingon promises, holding his finger at Maedhros’ mouth once more. Maedhros takes it into his mouth again and moans as Fingon uses his other hand to start stroking gently at Maedhros’ cock. “Don’t move,” Fingon orders. Maedhros closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall. Fingon continues stroking him, and Maedhros focuses on not following his instinct to thrust into Fingon’s hand. Fingon will let him come soon. “You are so beautiful, Russa.” Maedhros moans. Fingon is still stroking him. “But you know what I love about you most? What makes you so perfect?” Maedhros whimpers, tears beginning to fall from his eyes. It’s so much. He wants it so bad. “You always wait for me to be ready, no matter how badly you want to come.” Fingon’s tongue laps away at his tears, and for all the teasing of the day, Fingon’s voice is genuine, and that makes Maedhros even more ready to burst. “You are so good to me in every way. You take such good care of me.” Fingon’s warmth disappears from his side and is replaced at his legs. “Open your eyes, darling. Let me take care of you now?” Maedhros opens his eyes and Fingon is looking up at him, mouth inches away from his cock. “You can come whenever you want now, including inside me, okay? And if you want to come on my face, just let me know,” Fingon says with a smile and immediately takes Maedhros into his mouth, his bright brown eyes never leaving Maedhros’ flushed face.

A couple sucks in, Fingon moves Maedhros’ hand to rest in Fingon’s hair, a move Maedhros recognizes as permission to force Fingon’s head down, but Maedhros shakes his head and lets his hand drop back down to his side. Fingon will take care of him all on his own.

It’s taking every bit of self-control not to come yet, and even though Fingon told him he can come whenever he wants, there’s something about Maedhros that makes him want to wait until Fingon gives him an explicit order. Some sense of pride that he can follow Fingon’s orders, that his body is so responsive, so wholly Fingon’s that he will not come until he is told to.

Fingon seems to sense his hesitation to come, and he removes his mouth and sits up on his knees. “Darling?” he asks, his voice full of concern. Then a thought seems to hit him. “Do you not want to come today?” Sometimes Maedhros asks for that.

Maedhros shakes his head. “No, I do. I just...” He looks at Fingon, then averts his gaze slightly. They’ve been together for almost ten years, but he still feels a little self-conscious about his desires. “I want you to tell me exactly when.” Fingon caresses his cheek, bringing his gaze back to his lover. Fingon is smiling, and Maedhros feels reassured. Fingon likes this game, too.

“Okay.” Fingon shifts onto his lap and brings their foreheads together, returning his hand to Maedhros’ cock. “I’m going to count to ten, and then I want you to come.”

“One.” He strokes up.

“Two.” He strokes down.

“Three” Up. “Four.” Down. Maedhros groans, feeling himself getting there. Fingon pauses. His voice is stern. “Not until ten, darling.” Maedhros nods, screwing his eyes shut, and Fingon resumes. “Five.” Up. “Six.” Down. “Seven.” Maedhros pants openly now. It hurts. “Eight.” Up. “Nine.” Down. “Ten, come for me, love.” Maedhros splatters into Fingon’s hand, grunting. He keeps his eyes closed and lets Fingon lay him down.

Their bed is warm. Through the curtains, Maedhros can tell it must be late evening by now, given the orange glow. He hears the dishwasher beep downstairs, but he’s not ready to leave this safe space yet, so when Fingon lays down besides him, he murmurs, “Did I do good?” He already knows the answer, but he needs to hear Fingon say it.

Fingon kisses him, and Maedhros realizes that Fingon must have eaten the cum, for he tastes himself in Fingon’s kiss. Fingon keeps them wrapped tightly together and pushes Maedhros’ red hair out of his face. “You were perfect, Russa. Just like always.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever smut piece -- I'd love to get feedback! Also, I really went back and forth with myself about what tags to include or not include; if there are any you think are missing, please let me know!


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